


Frozen

by trepkos



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Angst, Enemy Lovers, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 14:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trepkos/pseuds/trepkos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Resentful uneventful slash.<br/>Thanks to executrix for advice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frozen

It was all Vila’s fault: that went without saying.

But then, he, Avon, was twice the fool Vila was, for allowing a small-time thief to calculate the set-down co-ordinates, and then to use them without checking them.

Vila hadn’t exactly dropped him in it, so much as right on the edge of it.

And when it came down to it, for all that he liked to careen around the ship, filling the role of the man-of-action, Avon was, after all, just a computer analyst, part-time failed fraudster, who’d spent most of his life sitting on his arse, letting his waistline grow along with his expertise. The Liberator had supplied him with plenty of attire that flattered his desk-jockey figure, but the laws of gravity weren’t fooled by the cut of his tunic.

It had been fifty-fifty as to whether he’d keep his footing, or be able to leap the few feet to safety as the edge crumbled beneath his boot, and the fact that random circumstance yet again failed to operate in his favour was tediously predictable.

It was equally predictable, and somewhat more life-threatening, that their contact had failed to turn up, and that the Liberator was now off-station, and would be for the next twelve hours.

Which is why he now finds himself stuck in a hollow that Blake has dug in the snow, suffering numerous bruises, at least three normally non-life-threatening fractures, and two enormous pricks at his back, one of them attached to the other, though this isn’t going to remain a permanent situation, if Avon has anything to do with it.

The only reason he’s allowing Blake to get this close is because, in these temperatures, and with the thermostat on his suit malfunctioning, the only way he’s going to survive the night is by leeching Blake’s body heat.

He feels Blake’s cock nudging at his behind.

“Don’t push it,” he growls.

“I could just leave you here.”

Avon can almost see the smug quirk on those supercilious lips.

“I know you’ve considered doing as much to me before now.”

“Jenna!” Avon spits her name like a curse.

“Jenna didn’t say a word,” Blake replies, in the same smug tone. “It was an educated guess.”

Avon curses himself for his effective admission of guilt. The cold must be making his brain sluggish. He wonders that Blake doesn’t do just what he suggests: leave him here. It’s not as if anyone on board would question the glorious leader. Gan – the big sheep – would jump off a cliff of his own volition if Blake demanded it; Jenna had the hots for the alpha male, and as for Vila – why should he care if the man who’d made his life a misery for the past year was to disappear from the picture?

Cally might wonder – might miss him. He thought he’d seen a flicker of … something from her: a kind of warmth. But she was weak.

“If you know me so well, why let me stay aboard then?” Avon demands. “Now’s your chance. You can say I fell down a bottomless frozen crevasse.”

“Every dictatorship needs to be challenged.”

“Even yours?” Avon sneers.

“Even mine.”

“Tell yourself that’s the reason if it makes you feel superior,” Avon grinds out. “The truth is, you need me.”

“Yes …” Blake’s voice in his ear has dropped its cocky tone … it’s almost a whisper.

“You need me, and I don’t need you,” Avon says harshly.

“You do. Tonight, you do …”

Blake pulls him close, and presses a kiss on the back of his neck.

Avon freezes. Is this the price of survival? Will he have to put up with Blake, slobbering and whispering sweet nothings in his ear, just to get through the night? And if that happens, how much of himself will he betray? What it comes down to is this – which is worth more? His pride, or his life?

“It’s not weakness to admit you need something Avon. The weakness is in being too afraid to admit to it.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Avon says, sullen and angry.

“No, you’re afraid of yourself.”

Vulnerability making him vicious, Avon clenches his teeth, and hisses out one word: “Don’t …”

There will be no concessions to hopeless romanticism tonight.

~~


End file.
